My Sheila
by Cara Mia
Summary: Sequel to Bender: Why did Jax and Skye wind up together?


Show: General Hospital  
  
Title: My Sheila  
  
Disclaimer: In the words of Sea'Wana: I don't own, just worship.  
  
Summary: Sequel to "Bender"; Just how did Skye get where she did?  
  
A/N: For Tai aka Tigerlily24, the world's biggest Sax fan

  
  
She was deep in her cups.  
  
Shit.  
  
Was she so hung up over that old coot that he had driven her to fall off the wagon?  
  
Jax watched her from the threshold of the empty Haunted Star. The golden lamplights lighting a fire in her auburn hair, swept back in a neat knot at the nape of her neck. He watched Skye unsteadily pour another shot of vodka, the bottle clinging against the heavy crystal.  
  
She chose that moment to look up and, in that moment that her heart-shaped face and tilted hazel eyes were framed by a halo of golden lamplight, all thoughts of a selfish treasure-stealing brunette vanished.  
  
"Don't start," she began, sounding surprisingly sober, a fact warped when followed by a resounding "Hic!"  
  
"I wouldn't dream of it, sheila," Jax retorted dryly, slipping his hands into his pants pockets and headed towards the bar.  
  
"I might be drunk, Jax, but I'm pretty sure that my name isn't Sheila."  
  
"Would you rather I call you darlin'?" he asked, unable to resist the jibe.  
  
Skye's eyes narrowed as she took in her ex-husband's rakish appearance. "Fuck you, Jax," she muttered immaturely.  
  
His eyes fell on the almost empty bottle of Stolichnaya. "Looks to me like you've fucked yourself," he replied.  
  
"I don't care," she mumbled and downed her shot.  
  
"Well, I do," he snatched the bottle from her.  
  
"Stop it, Jax!" Skye cried, grabbing for the bottle. "I'm not a child!"  
  
"Sometimes, you certainly act like one!"  
  
Although Skye took obvious offense to that, she didn't reach out and slap the hell outta him. Instead, her hazel eyes effectively pinned him where he stood.  
  
She surged unsteadily to her feet. "Does this like a child to you, Jasper Jacks?" she hissed.  
  
The peacock blue silk of her dress stretched tautly across her breasts and her hands were set on the womanly flare of her hips.  
  
Grace and good manners kept Jax from drooling. She certainly looked like no child he'd ever come across.  
  
Jesus!   
  
She was one of the most fiery sexy sheilas he'd ever known. It was what had drawn him to her in the first place.   
  
"No," he practically croaked in reply.  
  
"Then give me the bottle, Jax," she carefully enunciated the words, trying to sound sober when they both knew she was more than just a little drunk.  
  
"No!"  
  
"Fine!" she pouted childishly before whirling from him to the shelves behind and grabbing another bottle.  
  
Jax almost choked - the dress had no back! He'd just been presented with a set of creamy shoulders and back, laid bare till shamefully covered by the silk just above her buttocks.  
  
"I'm behind the bar," Skye pointed out, triumphantly setting a full bottle of Jack Daniels in front of her.  
  
He grabbed that one, too.  
  
"Damn it, Jax, stop it!"  
  
"No, you stop it, Skye. You're drunk and acting a fool."  
  
"So what? There's no one to see me be myself and why the hell do you care anyway? Shouldn't you be chasing after the latest lookalike version of Brenda?" she asked bitterly.  
  
"You're a mean drunk."  
  
"And you're a lousy husband, but who's keeping score?" She made to turn around and grab another bottle from the seemingly endless supply of liqour behind the bar when Jax's hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist.  
  
"Don't."  
  
Skye's eyes narrowed to slits. "Sam dumped you for Sonny so you're relegated to saving me again?" she spat mercilessly and wrenched her wrist again.  
  
He'd forgotten how mean she could be. She didn't need liqour to to be able to make a man feel two feet tall but when she was drunk she was an absolute bitch.  
  
He voiced his opinion and for an instant, he swore he saw a flicker of pain in her eyes before a mask of anger resumed its place.  
  
"And therefore so not your type, huh, Jax? Because this bitch doesn't put blinding trust in you as far as she could throw you!"  
  
Quick as an instant, any remorse he'd harbored for hurting her vanished and his anger started to take root. "You don't trust anyone, Skye."  
  
"With my life, it's a wonder I don't - no family, two insane partners and an ex-husband who keeps sticking his fucking nose in everyone's business but his own and seems infactuated with talking brunette porcelain dolls!" she spat bitterly.  
  
Jax heaved a long suffering sigh which only served to infuriate Skye further. "You need coffee, Skye."  
  
"What I need is for you to gimme the fucking bottle and get the hell away from me!"  
  
"I'm not going anywhere," he replied, grabbing her wrist again.  
  
"Fine!" she wrenched her wrist again, wincing as the sensitive skin rubbed against his palm. Damn, that was sure to leave a bruise. "Then I am! Stay here and save the river rats!" Skye grabbed her purse from under the counter and stomped from behind the bar.  
  
Her seething anger crackled around her like an electric shield. He knew it was mostly bravado - she was hurting. Whether the pain was from their conversation was doubtful, but she was hurting nonetheless.  
  
He tried to swallow his own anger and reach for the caring he carried for her deep inside.   
  
"What's wrong, Skye?"  
  
The genuine concern in his voice effectively halted her in her tracks. She unsteadily whirled to face him against the instincts screaming at her to keep walking.  
  
She took him in - this gorgeous hunk of a man - with his spiky blonde hair and sky-blue eyes swimming with concern. Her words were stuck in her throat.  
  
"Tell me, Skye," he asked again, standing up and heading to her until he towered over her. "What is going on with you?"  
  
She could feel the heat radiating from him. She was drowing in it and he wasn't even touching her. Drunk as she was, she wasn't stupid enough to let him spin that web of promise around her. "Don't bother yourself, Mr. Boy Scout. You'll be spreading yourself too thin."  
  
"Damn it, Skye!" he raked a hand through his already messy hair. "Can't you see I'm worried about you?"  
  
"Jesus, Jax! You really have a compulsive need to try to save somebody, don't you?" he eyes shot daggers into him. "Well, I may need saving but I sure as hell don't need you to be my saviour! I won't make that same mistake twice."  
  
"Did I make you like this?"  
  
She scoffed. "Don't flatter yourself, Jasper Jacks. My life doesn't revolve around you anymore." She whirled around but thought better of it. "It's killing you, isn't it? That Brenda's gone, Sam's with the mobster and I'm not drooling after you anymore?"  
  
He tried not to put any stock in her words because he knew she was drunk as a skunk, but in some part at the back of his mind he couldn't help wonder if there was some truth to her words.  
  
"Come on, Skye," he took her arm, gently this time, "I'm taking you home."  
  
"Goddamn it, don't you understand English? Let me go!" Skye barked, struggling against him as he proceeded to march her to the main doors.  
  
With a final surge of strength she wrenched her arm away from him and stumbled off in the opposite direction. Her progress was wobbly, made even more so in the strappy gold stilettos that had seemed like a good idea at the start of the evening.  
  
Jax had already whirled to follow her when she stumpled and twisted her ankle.  
  
He cursed under his breath as he hurried towards her as she hopped on the uninjured foot and he dragged her against the warmth of his chest.  
  
Feeling the strength of his arms around her, she felt the fight draining from her. She started to get weepy - whether from the pain in her twisted ankle or because she felt like shit was anyone's guess, but she shakily muttered, "Why do you care, Jax?"  
  
Jax grasped her by her shoulders and turned her to face him. He looked down into Skye's tilted hazel eyes gazing inploringly up at him. "God knows why, sheila."  
  
And he fused his mouth to hers.  
  
[fin.]  
  
A/N: Review... pretty please??? 


End file.
